Of Broken dreams and reencounters
by Novacaine soul
Summary: Every girl has their heart broken at least once in their lives, and Annabeth Chase is no exception. / In which Annabeth has run away from her life and, when things finally start to be okay, her past returns to haunt her.


**This is kind of the prequel of a story I want to publish. Someday, somehow. Maybe in fifty years. OOC alert.**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything.**

* * *

Annabeth Chase looks through the window. The day is grey and stormy, rain falling from the sky like Poseidon has decided it would be fun to take all the water of the oceans up to the sky and, there, let it fall freely just to torture those lost and miserable souls that liked to call themselves humans.

She doesn't want to think about that. Sure, the gods' only talent is annoying mortals and, sure, humans are irremediably lost and miserable— but she is one of them now.

Or, at least, that's what she tries to make the world believe.

It isn't like she minds it. She isn't a girl people can befriend easily. People aren't someone she wants to befriend.

But being alone is not something she enjoys.

* * *

Annabeth Chase hates Saturday evenings. On Saturday evenings, young girls, like her, are supposed to go out, get drunk and enjoy life.

She doesn't.

It's not only she doesn't like to do those things —which she doesn't— but also because, well, she has no one to have fun with.

(She supposes she has her cat Whiskers and her neighbour Ally, but one of them is too lazy and so not appropriate for social interactions and the other one, well, the other one is a cat).

So she spends her Saturday evening either studying or reading, but always with a frown on her face.

She doesn't like feeling left out.

* * *

Annabeth Chase groans when the lights suddenly go off. She knows she's paying the bills. Then why do the gods like to torture her?

She shakes her head.

_The gods don't exist_. As stupid as it sound, she hopes that, if she hears it enough times, she might be able to believe it.

* * *

The sky is dark and Annabeth Chase wonders why she must go through this. She had already left her whole family and all her friends behind. Then why is she supposed to put up with the annoying guy her neighbour Ally advised her to hang out with? Running away _clearly_ means that she doesn't want people around her.

The sky is dark and Mark (said guy) just won't shut up. Annabeth Chase is about to call her mother and offer him as a sacrifice saying he is an irreverent son of Nep—

She almost trips over her own feet —considering that it's possible for her— and quickly throws that idea away, to the section of _'Annabeth's most dangerous and stupid thoughts'_, to never take it back again.

The sky is dark and the stars shine brightly. She tries not to look for The Huntress. But it's too late, because her eyes and mind have betrayed her and she has already found Zoë's silhouette, eternally married to the sky as a reminder of her sacrifice.

The sky is dark and Annabeth Chase doesn't want to think about her former life anymore.

* * *

Annabeth Chase doesn't know what she's thinking about when she accepts another date —in case you can call that awkward evening they spend in some weird restaurant without a ceiling a date— but she does. Mark called her yesterday about twenty times. In the end, she accepts because she knows she's going to spend the rest of the week (or worse, the rest of her _life_) listening to Mark begging her to give him a chance.

So she does. And she expects the worst.

What she doesn't expect is to actually have fun. Instead of the stereotypical date to the movies —she hates stereotypes—, Mark takes her to the History Museum and pays for the premier visit just for her. He calls himself a nerd with a soft spot for history.

Needless to say, he's already on Annabeth's 'Top Ten Favorite People'.

Because maybe demigod-Annabeth didn't trust easily, but mortal-Annabeth was willing to be different from her former version.

* * *

Annabeth Chase misses her family. Sometimes. To be honest, she only misses them when she's lying on her bed, wide awake and she can't sleep. Because then she remembers that, when she couldn't sleep, back in San Francisco, her father's office's lights were always on, and her step-mother snored lightly, and her half-brothers could be loud even sleeping.

It's at times like this one, when Annabeth Chase misses a sign of life in her completely empty house.

Maybe it was her decision to leave them behind. But that doesn't mean she can't miss them.

* * *

The third (second, because both of them agreed to never talk about their first night again) time Annabeth Chase goes out with Mark, she's the one who asks.

She feels like she owes him. Annabeth hates debts.

So she asks, and he accepts and, for an afternoon, they can pretend they're normal young adults who try to enjoy their life.

Mark introduces all his favourite books to Annabeth, and she gladly takes them. Instead of going out like they planned, they spend the whole afternoon at Mark's place, reading.

And for the first time in many years, Annabeth Chase truly likes her own lie.

* * *

Annabeth Chase falls. She falls into an endless void of darkness— not exactly the same one she visited all those years ago. She falls like that's the only thing she knows how to do, like she has never left the ground; yet, at the same time, she falls like she's been on the highest top before she fell.

Annabeth Chase falls to never stand up again.

Because her downfall —and (oh, the irony) also her anchor and guardian angel— is standing on her porch, soaking wet, when he's not supposed to.

* * *

Annabeth Chase is a self-proclaimed mortal, but she's a self-proclaimed mortal with a dangerous past and a life she can't wait to forget.

A life that has suddenly appeared on her porch.

She shuts the door in Percy Jackson's face.

She doesn't care what reasons bring him here. She's just sure she doesn't want the see him ever again.

So she turns Mark down tonight, saying she isn't feeling very well (nothing serious, maybe she got cold yesterday) and spends the rest of the afternoon locked, a prisoner in her own house. She decides it's better if she doesn't open the door and just stays near it, to hear him leave.

But six hours later —at thirteen to two in the morning— Percy Jackson hasn't left yet. She can hear his breathing and his mumbled worlds, but he never knocks at the door again. He must have taken the hint.

Annabeth Chase decides to go to bed. She's sure he'll leave.

Except he doesn't.

* * *

Annabeth Chase is sitting in her kitchen and her coffee burns her hands worse than any godly weapon could.

But she's okay with that. Call her a masochist, but she _needs_ the pain right now. She needs it to remind herself that she's still a human (well, half human, at least), not some statue unable to move and breathe and _do things_. She is just not sure anymore about her humanity.

Maybe she is just another of Medusa's victims.

The heat turns into white, blinding pain and not only on her hands, but on her heart too. No matter how much she tries to forget about the gods, the monsters, the demigods, her old life— she can't do it. She just can't. Because it's like trying to forget the most important part about herself.

(And, if she loses it, then what is Annabeth Chase?)

She still hasn't opened the door. She doesn't want to. Opening the door means going back to her old life, and that is something she isn't willing to do. She had enough of it. She ran away.

Then why should she come back?

She knows the answer —she always does— and she doesn't like it. She knows that if Percy asked her, she would say yes without thinking it twice.

She hates herself for that. She's a warrior. Warriors don't have weaknesses; they are supposed to be strong, fearless, _powerful_. But she is not. If she wouldn't think about it twice (besides being completely not like her), it is because she still cares and loves Percy Jackson.

And she hates herself for doing so.

Annabeth Chase is sitting in her kitchen, the coffee in her hands now cold.

* * *

Annabeth Chase freezes. She freezes when she realizes what she's doing— she is walking towards the door. She doesn't want to.

But apparently, her mind isn't in control anymore, because her legs move smoothly —they always do— and her hand is already out, her fingers itching unintentionally for the doorknob and—

No. She is stronger than this. Annabeth doesn't know who is making her do the wrong thing, but she reminds herself that she is strong, a warrior, she is _a_ _daughter of Athena, for Olympus' sake_.

And, just for a moment, she lets herself remember about her mother and about where she comes from and about what she is.

Just for a moment, she is Annabeth Sophie Chase, leader of Cabin Six, architect of Olympus and one of the Seven Chosen Demigods again.

For a moment, her glory is back. For a moment, she is still special.

But only for a moment.

Annabeth Chase turns around and walks away from the door, the urge now gone.

And so is her past.

* * *

It's has been a week since Percy appeared and, as far as she knows, he still hasn't left her porch.

Annabeth Chase is not going to check it.

But it has also been a week since she has left her house and both her boss and Mark are driving her mad with their calls. Mark is beyond worried (it's nothing, she just got a little sicker than she thought) and her boss demands to know why she isn't working her ass off right now, but she doesn't say it's because she can't leave her house.

She knows she will have to confront Percy in a short period of time.

But, as she replies to Mark's latest text while letting Whiskers settle on her lap, she knows it's not today.

* * *

Annabeth Chase raises her head and she's not exactly surprised when she sees him standing in the middle of her kitchen. After all, it was a matter of time.

"I see you finally found your way in," she states.

That was it. No 'long time no see, Seaweed Brain, how're you?' No 'I missed you, I'm sorry'. No 'we're together again'. No judo-flipping each other.

Percy doesn't answer. Not verbally, at least. He just looks at her with such rage and fear and _hate_ that would have made anyone else fall to the ground, trembling, yelling and sobbing like toddlers.

Not her, though. She barely blinks.

So they just stay there, seizing and analysing each other. Waiting for the person standing in front of them to take the first step.

Because they are too afraid to take it themselves.

And, after what felt like forever, he speaks up.

"You left."

He isn't asking, he isn't yelling, he is just saying it.

"I know."

"You left, with no explanation, and no one knew where you were. I've spent five years of my life looking for you! And when I finally find you, find where you live and what you do, you close the door at my face! And, the worst part of all, you never opened again. You left me out there for more than a week, for Zeus' sake!"

She doesn't move. She knew this moment would come. She had been mentally preparing herself for this.

But it's a million times worse than she imagined it.

"I know."

"The worst part is that you left me. Me, Annabeth, you left me when I gave everything I had to you!"

A moment passes. Her heart beats once.

"I know."

Knowing is the only thing she's good at.

* * *

Annabeth Chase is lying on a mess of memories, feelings and urges, and all she wants to do is bury her head deep in her pillow, and scream.

She wants to scream until she can't hear anything else, until her voice breaks, until her throat goes raw, until her lungs burn.

Because, no matter how painful that might seem, it can't be worse than the remorse that made of her mind its new home.

* * *

Annabeth Chase runs away, miles and miles far from her new home, far from her old homes and far from Percy Jackson, the only possible junction between those two.

She runs until she's out of breath and her legs feel numb, making her fall to the ground.

And while she has her right cheek pressed against the hard and burning floor, all she can do is laugh and cry at the same time, regretting but accepting all her life choices.

Because she might not be shattered, but she is not completely whole either.

She ran not because she wanted to (which was also a reason), but because that was the only thing she could do. Running away.

She ran away from her family when she was seven, from Camp when she was twelve, from Percy when she was fourteen and from her whole life when she was seventeen.

The chocked laugh she lets out impacts against the floor, making the dust on it create a little and unique cloud, shining with the millions of colors of life against the sunlight.

The fact that, no matter how far she goes, some things (like the sun and herself) still stay the same, gives her at the same time a feeling of reassurance and the most blinding terror.

The sun is bright up in the sky and the land under her seems dull. This is nothing like her house, she thinks.

Oh, what would she give to go back to her home —her original one— and act like none of this happened.

The sun is high and the land is rough, and Annabeth Chase has never left her kitchen.

Only a pair of green eyes holds her now.

* * *

Annabeth Chase closes her eyes because she does not want to see. She'd prefer to be blind and deaf and dead rather than feeling Percy's emotion.

Because, you see, whenever Percy feels something you just _know_. You don't have to guess it, peeking at his thoughts or basing your opinion on the look of his eyes.

When Percy feels, it's like someone (the gods?) has placed a warm —and sometimes heavy— blanket around your shoulders. It's real, you can see its color, you can hear the soft fabric when you try to move, you can feel the softness and warmness of it, you can even smell it, for Athena's sake.

The thing Annabeth loves the most about this, is the fact that every emotion has it own characteristic scent. Sadness smells like the sea on a stormy day. Anger smells like the ashes they left behind after gathering around the fire at Camp. Desperation smells like a cold night. Happiness smells like a mixture of strawberries, lemon-scented shampoo, chocolate cookies and _Annabeth_.

And, if you ignore the smell of the burnt toasts she was preparing before he appeared, her kitchen is only filled with the smell of betrayal.

* * *

Annabeth Chase loved playing the piano. Not many people knew about this, for it was her darkest and most hidden secret. Why, she didn't know. But only a few selected candidates were personally chosen by her to hold that valuable knowledge.

She loved it, but it had to come to an end. After staying for so many years at Camp Half-Blood, she had stopped. The only pianos there were safely placed and locked inside Apollo's cabin, far away from other campers' —especially Hermes campers— reach.

Doing activities that were not characteristic of your godly parent was frowned up upon at camp.

This night, she thinks, Percy tastes exactly like one of her favorite piano melodies— sad, desperate and forbidden.

Sad, because the song was about a lost love and she left without a warning. Desperate because the lover will never come back and Percy will do anything to take Annabeth with him. Forbidden, because she played when she wasn't supposed to and she can't go back there again.

Annabeth sees Percy Jackson like a piano. In black and white, and with endless possibilities to create the most beautiful and horrible music.

He just needs the right artist. And that isn't her.

* * *

Annabeth Chase tries to breathe in, unsuccessfully.

"You left," he repeats.

Annabeth wonders how many times they have had this conversation. It feels almost familiar.

"I had to," she replies sharply.

When did her kitchen get so cold?

"No, you didn't! I love you, Annabeth, can't you see that?"

Her heart skips a beat. Her eyes blink once.

"Maybe that is the only thing I can see."

She supposes he won't understand.

"Then why did you leave?"

He doesn't understand. His love was the best thing that had ever happened to her, but it was too overwhelming. She felt like she was chocking on her own breath, bathing in lava and drowning in something that was more ice than water.

War can change things. She knows that. The last war took too many things —people, mostly— away, replacing it with something darker that had not been there before.

Anger. Loss. Desperation.

Human monsters.

Oh, yes, those who had been kind demigods before turned into killing machines that no one, not even their mortal parents, would recognise.

Percy had been one of those.

So she just looks at him, with nothing to hide, nothing to be ashamed of.

"You changed, Percy. And so did I."

* * *

Percy Jackson nodded curtly, without asking a question.

He had changed.

The Percy Annabeth knew wouldn't have shut up until she explained everything to him, preferably adding graphics and colored images.

He didn't utter a single word. He just accepted.

Annabeth had never felt her heart so empty.

"Very well. I guess I travelled this far for nothing." He looked at her with pleading eyes. "Are you sure, Annabeth? Please?"

Her determination falters for a moment, because she knows he's not only asking her to go back with him. He's asking her to act like nothing happened and like nothing will happen. Like everything was, is and will be normal.

If there is something Annabeth Chase loves almost as much as knowledge, that's the truth. And she knows this is a lie.

"I had never been surer of something, Percy."

A thick silence falls upon the kitchen and her whole existence (or at least that is what Annabeth thinks).

He nods silently again, and that's where Annabeth knows it's the end of an era.

"Very well."

* * *

Annabeth Chase watches as the love of her life —and (oh, the irony) also the bane of her existence and her biggest enemy— walks away under the rain, knowing it doesn't bother him.

Her arms itch for the feeling of him around her and her eyes burn due to the tears she's holding back. She knows many words have been left unsaid and many things have been left unproven. In one instant, she wonders about what could have been and if she did the right thing when she left. One last breath pierces the cold air of the night in Seattle, as if it's trying to call Percy back.

But she closes her lips before they can do anything dangerous. She can't go back now.

And although she will miss him —God, who wouldn't?— and the nightmare she used to call her life, now she knows that her new existence is this, a stormy city filled with buildings she fell in love with and a sky that turns purple and orange at sunset and a small house in which her cat Whiskers waits for her.

She turns around, hiding her tears behind the golden curtain that is her hair and a shaky breath leaves her lips.

_I guess this is a goodbye, then_, she thinks.

But it's so hard to say goodbye.

Annabeth Chase enters the house, and the rain soaks the city of Seattle, giving it an aura than makes it look rather magical.

But it doesn't soak a lost boy wandering through its streets.

* * *

Annabeth Chase sits on a bench in the middle of an unknown park. Snow covers her and her surroundings.

She doesn't know where she is. She doesn't care either.

Her fingertips are freezing, and she hopes to get turned into an ice statue, if it will lessen whatever she is feeling.

(She doesn't even know her own emotions, what kind of person does that make her?)

As a light snowflake comes down to place itself on her shoulder, she guesses than snow can be better than water.

It's gentler, exactly what the sea isn't and exactly what she needs now. It's lighter and softer, not carrying a heavy burden such as a hero's destiny, fate and tragedy. And it's colder.

Just like everything else is.

* * *

Annabeth Chase feels like a piece of glass. Transparent, pure and fragile.

She doesn't want to be a glass.

She ignores Mark's calls and only attends to work when she feels like it. To everyone else, she is going through a hard heartbreak.

But she isn't. This is much more than just a heartbreak. She is breaking every connection she had with her past an the love of her life.

She feels as if she is been ripped out in two. And, in some way, she has. She has just lost her soul mate.

She knows it's a whole lot more than a heartbreak.

* * *

Annabeth Chase drowns. The air inside her escapes her lungs, and the desperation takes its place. She thinks she sees a bright yet faint light, but it disappears as quickly as she saw it.

Maybe she imagined it.

Percy's voice and laugh fills her ears, alongside other familiar noises. Suddenly, she hears Thalia grunting, Clarisse yelling at someone, Luke sword fighting, Grover letting out a nervous laugh, and Chiron's shooting voice.

For a moment, she forgets everything and smiles. Maybe everything was a dream. Maybe none of this actually happened.

But she opens her eyes and all she sees is darkness, darkness, darkness and the silence is so thick and heavy that it actually hurts.

She tries to reach for something, _anything_, she can hold onto, but her cold fingers close around empty air.

The lack of oxygen is burning her insides and she tries to breathe, she really tries, but all she gets is water and this hollow feeling that announces that yes, she made the wrong choices and now she is paying the consequences.

She is freezing and the pressure is going to make her chest burst into flames and she lets out a silent scream that hurts her throat worse than anything could have and damages her lungs to a state where only a very generous soul would call them that, leaving her nearly unconscious.

Annabeth is drowning, although she is not sure if what is around her is cold ice water or just the regret and remorse that are now constants in her life.

She closes her eyes, regretting every choice she made in her life and cursing the gods and fates for putting such a heavy destiny and task upon her fragile shoulders.

Annabeth Chase ceases to exist.

(And, hours, days, or maybe even years later, a young woman named Ann makes her appearance.)

* * *

And a lifetime later, Ann Collins is sitting on the bench in the middle of an unknown park. Her swollen belly indicates she's not just one anymore, and she likes to think of her future baby as a sign that she moved on her old life.

Mark grabs her hand and she misses —for a moment, only for a moment— Percy's calloused fingers running across her knuckles.

As the sun caresses her cheeks lightly, almost in a lazy way, she remembers the person that Annabeth Chase used to be, and the mistakes she committed.

Sadness overwhelms her sometimes, making her clutch her chest and scream in agony. It's not easy to forget everything you are.

And she knows it better than anyone.


End file.
